


Van Wilde

by MysteryGirl22



Category: Van Helsing (2004), Zootopia
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bloody, Curses, Dark Power, Demons, F/M, Magic, Monsters, Science, Secrets, Steampunk, battles, gunfights, knife battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryGirl22/pseuds/MysteryGirl22
Summary: The Azure Brotherhood has lived for millennia, and exists for one purpose: to rid the world of those who haunt the darkness, stealing whoever is unlucky enough to be caught in their sights. Their top agent, a young mammal as skilled as they come, is sent out on a routine mission, or at least, that was how it began. The only question now is, which side will win?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is modeled after the 2004 Van Helsing movie and its animated prequel, The London Assignment, both of which are completely freaking awesome and deserve way more attention!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover image was done by Ake'cheta for ZNN's Halloween Fanart contest, is he awesome or what? ^.^

**Book I: The Capital**

She’d always hated being outside when the wind was howling, the cramped, filthy streets lit more by the full moon glowing coldly overhead than the street lamps, with their small, sparse, guttering flames. The thick, broken clouds drifting constantly across that white, eerie face didn’t help, leaving her cloaked in bitter shadow more often than not. The ragged hem of her worn, tattered dress was soaked from tramping through mud and puddles, while she searched the deserted district for her father, as violent and harsh as he was. Anything was better than being trapped in the chill and mist for the night.

She gasped, whirling at footsteps behind her, seeing nothing but a narrow, fog-choked alley.

“Hello?” she demanded nervously, the words echoing slightly. She scanned the cracked cobblestones, the hair on her neck standing at the lack of answer. Just noise from some drunken mammal at the other end of the street. “Hello?”

She jumped at a loud clatter, her frazzled nerves sending her nose and tail twitching as she focused on a toppled rubbish bin. Just one of the many scaled creatures that wandered the city, starving just as the mammals residing there did. She sighed in weak relief, watching the bow-legged thing bolt clumsily away, deeper into the maze of side streets.

She chose one scarcely more well-lit than the rest, delicately taking her dress in her fingers, lifting the skirt above the flooded gutters as she had seen high-born ladies do, whilst out strolling in their fine clothes with their fine husbands. Stopping again at the sound of a carriage, the soft hiss of steam as the driver engaged the breaks, she was relieved to finally spot a close figure. Tall, well-built from what she could tell, with a dark cape to shield him from the chill.

“Oh, Daddy?” she started after him, hurrying her pace when he turned the next corner. “Daddy?”

She paused at the mouth of another alley, hugging herself from the cold as she searched for him, turning when a shadow loomed across her from behind.

“Dad—”

A large hand, coarsely furred and stronger than any she’d felt before, clamped across her mouth, muffling her frantic screams, her own small fingers useless as she gripped at his thick wrist. He hoisted her easily, chuckling darkly all the while, holding her against the rough, damp wall of a building. She tried to claw, tried to bite, her thin, weary legs kicking feebly. Her eyes widened at the scrape of steel against fine scaled leather, her blood running like ice through her veins as her vision locked on the long, shining blade. She made one last attempt to scream, as a burning sting whipped fast across her neck, and she felt the heat of her blood start to flood from her.

Her last sight before the world went black was a deformed, hideous face twisted in the widest and cruelest of grins.

_“Sweet dreams, my dear…”_

* * *

He laughed as the girl finally ceased her pointless struggling, her small body twitching as the last spasms of life rolled through her. Tucking the soiled weapon away, he pulled a small, ornate glass chalice from another pocket in his shredded costume, a small price to pay for the greatest of rewards. Sensing that which it was designed to contain, the top of the vial lifted of its own accord, pulling his hand hard to the source; the girl’s listless, gaping mouth.

He uncovered her face, watching in silent glee as a pale, shifting mist spilled from her dead lips, drawn toward the enchanted bottle. Once filled, the container sealed itself, trapping the prize within; it was quickly put away, lest some hapless soul see. Chuckling again, he let the empty, useless vessel fall, watched as it slumped to the filthy ground like an unwanted doll. Scarlet blood shimmered faintly as the moon peered from behind another cloud, soaked into the pale, brittle fur of her skinny breast, hollow amber eyes staring blindly up at the star-studded ebony heavens.

He stole silently away, ducking into the dank, filthy sewers that stretched and wound beneath the sprawling city, hearing the various shocked noises that arose from those creatures who called the vile tunnels home, the clicking patter of many fleeing footsteps as they scattered from the dull light spilling from the vial, now held aloft in lieu of a lantern. An especially crude use of such a treasure, perhaps, but a necessary one, if he was to keep himself discrete.

The shadows assisted in keeping his flight hidden, once he’d reemerged onto the streets, the vile smells that clung to him keeping any who would have questioned him at bay. It wasn’t long before things were to begin, and there were still many preparations to see to, the first of which was the procurement of new garments. These tattered rags would never do for his destination, or his audience.

_I can feel it beginning…_

He hurried the rest of the way, knowing she couldn’t wait.

* * *

The young serval tapped on the ornate doors, glazed with ground pearls from the western seas, inlaid with precious ocean silver. It seemed deep blue in the fading light of the sunset. She peered in, sighing in secret desire when she saw the wealth and splendor filling the bright, airy chamber. Creamy marble columns and tile quarried from deep caves in the far north; pale emerald and ruby silks from the east; grand furniture carved from the majestic white oaks of the vast southern forests.

“Highness,” she spoke lightly. “Master Alexander has arrived.”

Her mistress, a small arctic fox, held up a slender hand to halt the young deer brushing out her fine tail, her pale, silky fur the envy of all who saw her. Light honey eyes graced her with the briefest of glances.

“Send him in, please,” Skyla said, her voice soft and airy.

The maid bowed, partially because it was expected, partially so she wouldn’t have to watch the princess struggle to rise from her sunlit vanity. Whilst having been blessed with an uncommon beauty, Skyla had lived in poor health since birth, and could scarcely leave her rooms. With her marriage to the prince of the north now looming, and with every physician in the kingdom having already tried and failed, her father had had no choice but to call on one from the neighboring land. A mammal known to have cured even the toughest of ailments, provided one could pay his requested price.

The doe set down the polished copper brush and held her lady’s arm, guiding her slowly to the bed, setting her gently on the fine white linen coverlet. The serval pulled the heavy door open, standing aside to make way for a darkly furred sloth bear, dressed in fine, tailored clothes, long, polished claws clasping the handle of a large black bag.

“She is ready for you, sir.”

Alexander bowed graciously, holding his elegant black top hat to his chest.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said. “I shall continue to do my best for her majesty.”

“You may go about your normal duties,” Skyla informed them. Even speaking normally was enough to strain her some days. “I will summon you again once we have finished.”

The two girls bowed, speaking ‘highness’ in unison before departing, as they had long since grown accustomed to doing, for Alexander was quite adamant about no one being present while he was with a patient. The king, although wary of such secrecy, allowed the practice, willing to do whatever it took to see his daughter healthy.

“Now then,” he began once the great doors had shut, turning to face the young princess. “Are you ready to begin, my dear?”

Skyla smoothed out her pale yellow shift before laying her hands in her lap.

“I am, good sir,” she said. “And I thank you again for your kindness to me.”

The doctor chuckled, setting his bag on the vanity stool and unhooking the ornate bronze clasp. He brought out a crystal glass and small decanter of water, drawn from the icy rivers that flowed beyond the city. Pouring out a measured amount, he then took a vial filled with fine white powder from his coat, keeping careful watch of it as it dissolved in the water.

“Here you are, child,” he said kindly, once the mixture was finished. It had been left slightly opaque, with a faintly bittersweet smell, like that of sugared almonds. He added with an almost teasing smile, “Be sure to not miss a drop.”

She giggled, grateful there was a mammal willing to treat her as an equal, instead of someone to be worshiped.

“My father and I are so grateful for all you’ve done,” she told him, before taking a long sip. “I always feel so much better after your treatments.”

She drank the rest, then passed the cup to him, dabbing at her lips with a white lace handkerchief. Alexander held out a hand to help her to her feet, smiling coldly to himself when he saw the glaze spreading across her eyes, the final result he had been waiting for.

“Come, my dear,” he gestured to a grand tapestry, woven through with gilt threads, pulling it aside to uncover the plain door cut into the wall behind it. “I have many things to discuss with you.”

The princess obeyed without a word, following him down a series of stone staircases and tunnels, the final one opening on the bank of the Tessarack River, the city’s central waterway. A small, splendid ship bobbed in the current, tethered to a large tree with thick rope. He led her aboard, ordering his small crew to set sail as he hurried the girl below deck to his grand cabin. It was only when the key clicked in the lock that she began to come to, gazing about as her eyes cleared, her tail waving leisurely as she turned to him with a gleaming smile.

“Are we finally going on that voyage you promised, Father?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ocean silver: rare metal mined in the far north, looks various shades of blue depending on how sunlight hits it


	2. Chapter 2

He could hear the birds calling overhead, all sizes and sounds, their colors flashing in the sunlight like a living stained glass window. He kept a sharp eye as he strode through the doorway, knowing any room in this place was never as empty as it seemed. His hackles rose as he approached the large well in the center, pulling in short breaths through his nose, his body drawing tight when he found what he’d been searching for.

Hidden in shadow, with gaping jaws and scarlet eyes, the beast appeared, snarling sinisterly as it opened its black wings, swooping down on him with the intent to feed. He smirked, flicking his wrists to bring out the twin blades hidden there, slicing the creature’s belly as he dropped to the floor below it. Straightening quickly, he turned to the monster’s mate, screeching in anger as it leapt from hiding, barreling toward him on all fours like the savage it was.

It was met with two blades run through its chest, giving one last, agonized scream as it was cut cleanly in three. His tail bristled when he heard more, flicking the knives back into place as he reached for the pistols holstered at each hip, ducking and rolling beneath the first, firing over his shoulder. It fell, a blessed bullet longed in its un-beating heart, its fellows bellowing as they came upon him, only to be sent flailing as the holy silver burned them as well, crashing into walls and floor, the rotting bodies soon falling into damp, corrupted dark ash.

He stared around when the last one fell, breathing heavily, his own pulse pounding loudly in his ears. Hearing sharp, fast footfalls behind him, he tossed the empty guns aside, calling again on the blades hidden in his sleeves. He barely had time to turn before the monster was on him, froth and spittle flying from its bloodless lips. Razor claws scrabbling at thin air as he barely held it back with an arm to its throat. The long fangs inches from ripping the flesh off his bones.

Twisting fast, he drove his free blade in to the monster’s side, managing a deep slash to the neck as he kicked it away. The body twitched and spasmed, black blood pooling from the wounds to join the rest spattered and streaming across the stone floor. When at last it was still, he rose, breathing hard. Poised to attack as he searched the surrounding arches and doors, ears flicking as they strained for any sound that didn’t belong.

When it seemed that all was peaceful, he put his blades away, the gore having already evaporated from the blessed iron, moving quickly to where he’d dropped his empty guns. It only took seconds to reload them, but that was time he hadn’t had, more than enough for any one of those beasts to have torn his head from his shoulders. Holstering them, he headed back the way he had come, only to have his ankle caught up in the crudest of traps: a loop of rope hidden beneath the straw tossed carelessly across the floor. The other end thrown over a low ceiling beam, leaving him dangling as the room was suddenly lit, massive metal panels pulled back from their high windows.

He growled in frustration at the laughter, mammals of all species entering at once, dressed either for combat or the Holy Orders, depending on their role in the Brotherhood.

“Haven’t I always said its best to watch where you step?” an aging red fox came forward, clothed in a fine blue shirt and black pants, a heavy silver cross glinting and bouncing on his chest. Jonah Van Wilde, once the greatest hunter the land had known, now a doctor and healer. He laughed again, the sound rich, rolling and deep, his green eyes glinting. The smaller tan fox at his side was dressed in a rough brown habit, his own higher, jilting laugh joining in their father’s mirth.

“Don’t worry, Nicolas,” he said, once his fit had calmed, his honey eyes brimmed with gleeful tears. The rest of the mammals began to cleanse the place, sweeping the ash into piles, sprinkling the spilled blood with blessed white water, the unholy substance boiling before fading from sight. “I’m sure you’ll learn such tricks soon enough!”

Nicolas groaned, still swinging from the tether. His black shirt and pants fit closely, leaving enough space for the sheaths at his wrists and another pair at his heels, should he ever need them. Simple gloves protected his palms from rope burns, his fingers free to spare the cloth from his claws, kept long and sharp. The hem of his dark coat, made of material too tough for most blades, hung inches from the floor.

“Yes, ha, ha, very funny,” he crossed his arms. “Now get me down from—Oh! Governor Bogo…”

He flashed an embarrassed smile when the larger male spun him round, dressed in plain, dark blue robes with a silver insignia at his left shoulder: a drawn crossbow, pointed toward hell. The cape buffalo snorted.

“Good to see you up and about, Van Wilde,” he said gruffly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “For once.”

Nicolas looked at him, then huffed.

“That was cruel, sir,” he flicked out one of his knives, grabbing the rope with his other hand as he sliced it through. A simple flip had him landing lightly on his feet, and he finished cutting away the unwanted thing, tossing it aside.

“What is it, sir?” Aaron came up to them, looking nervous. He had just started being assigned field work, and had been placed with his elder brother, likely to keep the red from taking too many unneeded risks. Bogo tossed Nicolas the newspaper tucked beneath his arm, Aaron going pale when he saw the photograph on the front page.

“I’m afraid we have an assignment for you.”

* * *

“There’s been a string of grisly murders in the slums of the capital city,” the governor explained. He’d brought the tods to a small room above the forge, where a large lantern projector was kept. Each tableau showed a scene more grisly than the last: girls in tattered clothes with their throats slashed, some with their bellies split from chin to gullet, their organs free to spill into the streets. Aaron was forced to look away from the next image, the victim barely recognizable as a mammal. Nicolas felt his gut tighten when he noticed what else the poor girls had in common, besides their fates and ruined clothes. He shook his head, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing.

“It’s like their souls have been stolen…”

Bogo nodded.

“According to our analysts, that’s exactly what’s happened,” he carefully took out the slide and set it with the others, picking the latest and setting it in place. It appeared to be the killer’s cleanest work, with blood only on her thin, starved breast. “Though we haven’t yet found any evidence as to why.”

“And I suppose that’s where we come in,” Nicolas looked up at him, his tail beginning to swish in agitation. The governor nodded.

“You leave tomorrow morning, and Nicolas,” he focused on the red. “I feel I don’t need to remind you that our purpose is to save these mammals’ souls, regardless of their crimes.”

Nicolas scoffed.

“What you send us to find are not mammals,” he argued, slashing the hot air for emphasis. “How can we grant mercy on souls that no longer exist?”

Aaron gasped sharply; he’d long known of his brother’s skepticism, but had never heard him speak of it so blatantly. And to the leader of their order, no less! Bogo sighed, running a thick hand slowly down his tired face.

“You’ve made it quite clear how you feel about these matters,” he returned simply. “However, our order is still responsible for protecting the world from this darkness, no matter how forgotten it might be.”

Nicolas didn’t answer, his thick tail sweeping across the floor. The anger in his dark green eyes was almost palpable, a snarl beginning to curl his black lip. The governor’s own copper gaze narrowed in warning.

“You will do what you can to save this mammal,” he all but spat the words. “Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to banish you from the order, understand?”

Aaron gasped again, staring fearfully between the two. To be banished from the Brotherhood was to become their enemy, a target just as the monsters they fought. Nicolas held his glare for impossibly long, then finally sighed, little of his anger flowing out with it.

“Understood, sir,” he said shortly, then turned without waiting to be dismissed, storming off toward the stairs that led to the forge. Aaron swallowed, glancing at Bogo before bobbing his head, then quickly following.

* * *

“Nicolas!” Aaron caught up to him, watching as he shoved a large cross into a bag on his shoulder, nearly every mammal he passed granting him a wide berth. “Have you lost your mind?”

The red ignored him, his splayed ears perking slightly when he spotted a rack of swords near one of the smiths, the newly sharpened blades glinting in the flickering light of a hundred fires. Aaron hurried after him as he picked one up to examine it, taking a small amount of pleasure in the surprise that crossed the male’s face when he swiped it back.

“Arguing with the governor like that,” he started, putting the sword away. “Are you trying to get yourself banished?”

“And what if I was?” Nicolas returned simply, stepping past him. “I doubt they would waste any agents by sending them after me.”

They both knew he was best of the order, now that their father had hung up his coat. Aaron grabbed his own bag from a crate of new ones, the smell of fresh ostrich leather sharp in his nose. The first thing to go in was a large bottle of white water, the glass treated to be virtually unbreakable.

“But, why tempt the fates?” Aaron caught up to him at a table near the back wall, this time collecting ammunition for his pistols: silver-plated iron rounds, perfect against nearly all forms of beast. Nicolas stowed several boxes in his bag, shoving a hand through his wild headfur.

“Because,” he said, once they’d started toward the set of rooms they shared with their father. “It’s better than believing in such things blindly. There’s always another mammal whose death has come from that.”

Aaron hated to agree, but knew he was right. The forgotten beings that haunted the night weren’t the only horrors mammals faced, there were just as many present during the day.

“The wounds have all been precise,” he went on, setting his bag down before dropping on his bed. Both their room and their father’s were small, austere, the furniture simple, handcrafted. Aaron sat on his own against the other wall, setting his bag on his knees, tapping a nervous rhythm on it with his short, blunt claws. “Which means we’re looking for someone who knows how to care for and handle a blade.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Aaron said, always the practical one. “Even with all the murders being in the same part of the city.”

The slums of the capital were, without a doubt, one of the most crowded, housing at least a sixth of the population, if not more. Many in the area were also butchers, leather workers and other such professions, all of whom would know their way with a knife.

“There’s also another pattern,” he realized, searching through his robes for the list he’d copied down. “All of the victims were young, scarcely more than children, most of whom had wandered too far from their parents.”

“If they were lucky enough to have any,” Nicolas stood and peeled out of his coat, folding it neatly and setting it on the desk between their beds. “From what I understand, many of the children there are orphans, or were cast out.”

Aaron gulped, knowing more than most how true that was.

“And they’ve all been girls,” he noted, trying to keep his voice steady. He rubbed the long, faded scar on his chin. “What do you think it means?”

It surprised him when Nicolas shuddered, then sat back on his bed.

“I’d rather not think about it,” he admitted. “At least, for tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White water: holy water


	3. Chapter 3

The capital was as quiet as it could get when they arrived two days later, just after midnight. Nicolas hefted the larger bag on his shoulder, waiting impatiently on the airship dock as Aaron scrambled down the gangplank with the other, staying as far from the edges as possible.

“I always forget you still can’t stand heights,” he said, openly smirking. Aaron glared at him.

“We don’t all have grappling hook guns on our belts,” he complained, following the red through the maze of crates stacked for boarding. The king’s seal: a simple shield with a sword crossed behind it, was stamped on each one in deep blue, the heads of the iron nails holding them together glinting softly in the moonlight. They had arrived in secret, as they always must, the airship one of the order’s own fleet. Nicolas turned to watch it steer away from the docks, soon disappearing into the night.

“Yes, well, maybe if you proved you could use one,” he answered, his lips still slightly curled. Aaron’s ears flushed red, his eyes narrowing when the other started to snicker. “I’ve never seen a mammal do so poorly with one!”

Aaron grumbled, then shushed him, nodding toward the sound of the guard’s approaching footsteps. The king knew they were there, of course, he was the one who’d summoned them, but the greater populace must remain ignorant of their existence. Lest they also discover the ancient evil the Brotherhood guarded them against.

“Have there ever been any witnesses?” Aaron asked, once they’d reached the other side of the docks. The city was spread out below them, most of the windows dark. “This city has almost three million mammals, how are we supposed to find one killer?”

They stopped on the stairs when they heard the scream; Nicolas dropped his bag and raced off, jolting to a stop when he saw the shadow. Looming on a cracked and filthy wall, flickering in the weak flame of a street lamp. A great, hunched creature, one hand wrapped tightly around a young girl. He could smell fresh blood in the air, his stomach clenching when he realized he’d been just too late. He drew one of his pistols, forcing the sliver of fear aside as he set to confront the killer.

“That’s far enough!” he whipped around the corner, his aim unfaltering, even as his eyes widened. The girl was barely more than a child; a pale gray filly in a dirty, ragged green dress, staring back at him with wide, sightless blue eyes. Lying in the pool of her blood on the ground behind them, he could see a threadbare stuffed toy, likely her only comfort. He finally tore his gaze from her when the monster clicked their tongue, like a disappointed parent at a misbehaving kit.

“Oh dear,” the voice was deep, graveled and hollow. “Seems I’ve just made a terrible mess of things, haven’t I?”

Thick, cracked lips curled up in a twisted imitation of a grin, a long tongue lashing along rows of stained, jagged teeth. Nicolas took a step forward, starting to squeeze the trigger. It would only take one shot to end all of this, to stop whatever unholy scheme this beast was crafting.

“I’m with the Azure Brotherhood,” he began instead, remembering the governor’s words. He didn’t fear banishment from the order, what he feared was losing what had been his sole purpose in life, the reason for his birth. He lowered his gun a fraction, his finger still tight on the trigger. “Come quietly, and you won’t be hurt.”

The creature looked at him with mocking thoughtfulness, then gave him another dark smile.

“Now, where would the fun in that be?”

He carelessly tossed the girl’s body, Nicolas’ shot going high when she landed on top of him. He laid her carefully aside, drawing back when he saw she’d already become a withered husk, her eyes bulging, her jaw hanging loose.

“Forgive me for cutting this meeting short,” her killer spoke with false cordiality. “But I’m afraid I have some pressing matters I must attend to.”

Nicolas was fast on his heels, following the monster through the maze of dim and dirty streets, stopping short when he reached a dead end alley. He looked every way, trying to pull in dregs of the monster’s scent from the foggy, trash-perfumed air. But there was nothing, as though the creature had utterly vanished.

_How is that even possible?_

He took a moment to catch his breath, his prey had been impossibly fast for such a beast, wondering how he was going to explain this to Aaron, and the order.

* * *

Alexander tapped on his daughter’s door, smiling fondly when he heard her speaking softly to herself within.

“Skyla,” he called gently, knowing she frightened easily. “Its time for your medicine, darling.”

“Coming, Father!”

She giggled, then there was a patter of soft footfalls as she ran to the door. She gave him a beaming smile when she opened it, her eyes sparkling with excitement. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t started their voyage yet, it was enough for her to be on the ship, this beautiful floating palace he had built for them.

“I’m feeling so much better today, Father,” she hopped in place a bit, watching as he prepared the dose, this time mixed into her favorite moonberry juice.

“That’s wonderful, pet,” he handed her the glass, chuckling when she gulped it down. “And I’m happy to say we’re almost ready to sail.”

He chuckled when she squealed in excitement, then leapt up to hug him.

“You’re the most wonderful father in the whole world!”

He held her tightly, briefly, then set her back down, groaning a bit as he straightened.

“Will I still get my medicine after we leave?” she asked, gazing quizzically at him. He nodded.

“I’ve built our new home where we’ll have an abundance of what I need to craft it,” he assured her. “You’ll never be ill again.”

She cheered and hopped in place, clapping her hands. He chuckled again.

“It should only be another day or two until we sail,” he assured her. “Then we’ll never be troubled again, I just have to finish gathering our supplies.”

He ruffled her hair, then sent her back in her room. There were several dolls spread across her light blue rug, an older vixen smiling fondly as Skyla returned to her game. The nanny glanced up when she felt his gaze, her own eyes flashing cold scarlet for an instant, before returning to their warm forest green. He nodded once, then shut the door softly, feeling the power resonate through the carved and gilded wood. The fox was just one of the many familiars he had summoned, servants who would never question him, never reveal this most beautiful of secrets to the world. It was another price he was willing to pay, if it meant keeping his child close to him. He had already lost her one, and he would sooner cut out his own heart than risk doing so again.

He dug in one pocket of his fine velvet jacket, taking out the list written on some of the finest stationary in the kingdom. It would be so simple to delegate such tasks to his servants; however, collecting such items required a skilled and careful hand, and he knew none were more suited than his. There were also several other annoyances he still had to see to, beyond the frankly narrow scopes of their callings.

He took note of the most crucial items, then folded the list again and returned it to his pocket. It would do no good to terry, he had promised they would depart soon, and that was a promise he intended to keep.

 _I will not allow anyone to take her from me,_ he thought as he hurried off. _No matter who they are, I will make sure they_ never _succeed!_

* * *

“How could you have lost the trail of something so large?” Aaron questioned him. It had taken Nicolas hours to locate the lodgings the order had procured for them: a small room on the upper floor of a bakery, just inside the district where the murders had occurred. Nicolas peeled out of his coat, damp and stained from his earlier pursuit, laying it out on the floor between their straw pallets. As was his way, Aaron had assured the place was as clean as it could be; he grabbed the garment and shook it out, going for the basin of warm water on a small stand, a bar of rough soap and a scrub brush on a low shelf beside it.

“I’m amazed I kept up with him as well as I did,” Nicolas unhooked his holsters and laid them at the foot of his pallet, beginning the task of cleaning and reloading his pistols. “I’ve seen cheetahs that moved more slowly!”

The brush slipped from Aaron’s hand; he puttered when the water splashed him in the face.

“If it weren’t obvious before we were dealing with something unnatural,” he began scrubbing at one of the larger stains, a grained splash of dark mud. “What do you suppose he’s after?”

Nicolas hummed thoughtfully, thumbing silver-coated iron rounds into the first gun. The order’s firearms had been designed for such ammunition, perfect against night walkers and the darkness of the fae kingdom. Such creatures were rare now, but he remembered the stories from his father and the other elder hunters, when fairies and other villains almost as thirsty for blood as vampires roamed freely. Stealing children from their beds, poisoning wells and crops with their cold magic, luring those who fell under their spells to long, torturous deaths. He shuddered, fumbling for the pistol when it almost fell from his grip. Arron started on another stain: blood from the corpse that had been thrown at him.

“I hope you didn’t announce that we’re with the Brotherhood,” he said, looking pointedly at his brother. Nicolas rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting the younger tod’s stare. Aaron groaned in disgust. “How could you forget all the trouble that’s caused for us in the past? What on earth are you thinking when you do that?”

“That they’ll do the smart thing for once and surrender,” Nicolas answered simply, putting the cylinder back into place with a click. He set the weapon aside and started on the other. “I don’t know how I can forget that they never do.”

They worked in silence for a time; Nicolas had just begun to sharpen his knives when his brother spoke again.

“How much longer do you suppose it will take to catch this killer?”

“At most, a week,” he held the blade to the light: a polished sun crystal encased in glass, suspended from the ceiling by thin chains. He smiled in satisfaction when the edge glinted dangerously, the look fading when he still felt his brother’s gaze on him. “Is there a reason you keep staring at me?”

Aaron jumped a bit, then continued with his scrubbing.

“There’s just something I’ve meant to ask you,” he said at last. He dipped the brush in the water and shook off the excess. “About that ring you wear with your medallion.”

Nicolas pulled the silver chain from his collar, the order’s insigniagleaming proudly. Strung beside it was a plain ring carved of dark, polished wood, too small for his fingers.

“It’s from Judith,” he began. “Her grandfather heads a village of mammals displaced or orphaned by tragedy. Father and I travelled there to establish a new branch of the order while you were beginning your Holy studies.”

He smiled fondly at the charm, brushing it tenderly with his thumb.

“She and I exchanged these before we left, as a token of our affection,” his smile faded, and he gripped the ring in his fist. “But it’s been ten years since then, I doubt she remembers me…”

He sighed, let the chain fall to his chest and went back to his knives. Aaron finished with the coat and spread it out on the low table between their pallets, standing to pull the window above it shut. He could see the spires of the distant palace, looming above every other building in the city, just able to make out the black branches of wild rose that grew on wealthy walls. Festooned with sharp thorns and enchanting pink blossoms, they were a line of defense against the vampiric terror, the creatures unable to cross them. No one was sure just how or why such methods worked, but were glad of them nonetheless.

“How are we to find this monster now?” he returned to his pallet, pulling up the thin, course covers. It was only mid-spring, but the days and nights were already beginning to burn with the heat of full summer. He didn’t appreciate the look that crossed his brother’s face, the plan taking shape in his mind no doubt revenge for his earlier humiliation.

“I believe I know a way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moonberries: small white berries, honey-sweet taste, pale pink juice
> 
> Night walkers: because were-whatever species are just too much to keep track of
> 
> Cold magic: black magic, dark power
> 
> Sun crystal: basically a clear quartz solar panel


	4. Chapter 4

Aaron tried endlessly to adjust the garment, well-aware of his brother’s barely contained snickering.

“Could we not have found anyone else to do this?” he complained, looking sharply at the other tod. Nicolas swallowed his laughter and stepped forward, tugging the bonnet lower over Aaron’s brown eyes. He had bought the outfit from a deer doe selling an assortment of clothes on a street corner, her young fawn gazing pitifully out of the coarse blanket in her lap. He had also given her a small cabbage he’d purchased, wishing he’d been able to do more for them.

“It’s not as if I could have played this part,” he said now. With his height and build, there was no way he could be mistaken for a child, much less a young girl. His scars and tenor made the idea even more impossible. “Though I suppose I could try, since you seem so willing to take over the fighting for me.”

Aaron froze. He had never been one for combat, even in games as a kit. He swallowed, once again trying to fix the gown that insisted on slipping, no matter how tightly it was laced.

“Could you have at least gotten the correct-sized dress?” he asked, still struggling with one shoulder. The outfit was little to look at: plain, rough brown dress, threadbare white apron, limp white bonnet. Aaron reached into the sack by his feet, pulled out a coat made of lighter brown cloth and tugged it on, dismayed at the number of missing black buttons, the rest loose and mismatched in size.

“You’re not one to complain like this,” Nicolas noted, taking out his pistols. They were both ready to be fired, and he tucked them away, not wanting to frighten a straying local. “Is it possible you’re just trying to stall us?”

Aaron looked startled, then shook his head.

“I don’t want to spend any longer than needed on this mission,” he answered, grabbing the empty sack. “The longer this beast gets away from us, the more victims there will be.”

A cold finger of guilt swept down Nicolas’ spine, he doubted he’d ever forget the sound of that girl’s scream, just how close he’d been to saving her.

He looked up when Aaron gripped his shoulder, saw the firm resolution in his eyes that was so rarely there.

“She will be the last victim of this,” he said. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Nicolas tried to return the smile, still feeling that weight pressing down on him. He wanted nothing more than to avenge that child, and all the others who had fallen before her.

“All right,” he pushed the guilt to the back of his mind. “Let’s get started.”

* * *

It was nearing midnight, and there hadn’t been any sign of the killer. Aaron pulled the threadbare jacket closer around him, wishing he’d had the sense to ask for one of his brother’s knives, anything to prevent wandering through these dismal streets unarmed. He could have also turned the empty sack over his shoulder into some kind of extra cover, the chill biting even through his fur.

He glanced again at the rooftops, shrouded in fog and mist, watching for the flash of shadow that was Nicolas, keeping close watch from above, ready to act at the first sign of trouble.

“F-Father?” his teeth were beginning to chatter, making it difficult to maintain the falsetto. The few mammals still out, the drunkards and ladies of the night, ignored him, believing him to be just another of the orphans who crowded the slums. “Father, where are you?”

He almost leapt from his skin when he felt the strong hand on his shoulder, choking on his next breath when he caught the scent. Heavy and thick, stale and putrid. His breath shaking, he turned, his blood going cold when he saw the figure behind him. Broad and hunched, a thick tongue curling around jagged, broken brown teeth, bloody spittle collecting at the corners of that gaping, twisted mouth. The long claws on his arm tightened, ragged tips digging in, tearing at his clothes.

“Wandered too far from home, my dear?”

Aaron had never heard anything like that voice: deep, hollow, graveled. The copper-red eyes sparked with malice, twisted glee.

“Y-You’re not…” he tried to back away, his fur standing on end when the claws closed further, trapping him. He gulped. “P-Please, let me go, I-I’m not…”

The monster chuckled.

“That’s quite all right, my dear boy,” the grin widened. “It’s not necessary.”

He could only watch as that other hand disappeared in the folds of a filthy, tattered cloak, a bloodstained blue suit coat visible beneath. The knife glinted in the lamplight, his heart leaping to his throat when that lethal tip dove toward him, only to be knocked cleanly on his back before it could hit.

He coughed hard, tried to scramble away when he was grabbed again, sighing heavily when he realized it was Nicolas. He allowed himself to be pulled roughly to his feet, shoved against the wall of a derelict alley.

“Stay behind me,” the older male ordered, his tail snapping in anger. The beast barreled toward them, bellowing madly, knife raised to strike. Aaron shielded his eyes when Nicolas brandished the cross, the blade shattering as holy light briefly bathed the street. He could smell burnt flesh and fur, hear pained, ragged panting.

“You’re no priest,” the monster growled. “Who are you?!”

“Retribution,” Nicolas brought out his own knives and dove headlong, the sulfur and smoke of tainted blood spilling across the cracked cobblestones. He spun easily, driving a blade into the demon’s shoulder, a roar of agony roiling from his bloated gut.

“You’ve only got one more chance,” Nicolas leapt out of reach of a vicious swipe, keeping a defensive stance. “Give yourself up and let us save you, or burn forever in hell.”

The monster coughed, spitting yet more blood into the street. It was black as coal, the sight of the steaming mess enough to send ice down most mammals’ backs. Aaron backed away as it seemed to writhe toward him, almost as though the fluid had a mind of its own.

“I’d sooner burn in all the circles,” their quarry snarled finally. “Than let any of your holy filth touch me!”

Nicolas shrugged, putting away his knives in favor of his pistols.

“I was hoping you’d choose that.”

Aaron had never seen him so shocked than when he was thrown aside, colliding with an iron lamp post, the monster limping quickly away on all fours, soon vanishing in the gloom. Aaron rushed to his brother’s side, tears threatening to spill when he saw the tod lying still, scarcely breathing. Forcing back his panic, he scrambled to find the small vial hidden in the folds of his dress, the cold grip on his heart loosening slightly when he saw it hadn’t shattered. He uncapped it quickly, placed it to the tod’s lips, praying he would drink.

Just the cool, clean scent seemed to revive him, and soon Nicolas had drained it all. The water had been blessed by the highest priest of their order, then mixed with the purest oils and the freshest herbs. He sat gingerly back against the pole, wincing as he dragged in slow, ragged breaths, his brow furrowed as he stared in the direction the creature had vanished.

“H-He won’t get far,” he managed. “After losing so much blood; following it should be all it takes for us to have him.”

He attempted to rise, breathing sharply as he held his ribs. Aaron gripped hard on his shoulder, shaking his head.

“We can’t follow anything with you like this,” he said. “I’m taking you back to the base, there’s enough potion there to heal you by morning.”

Nicolas grumbled that it was a waste of time, as he had expected.

“You were hardly a match for him at full strength,” Aaron continued. “You would be killed before you could attack in this state!”

He struggled to lift the larger male, tugging an arm around his thin shoulders, pausing only to collect the dropped weapons. He was amazed that beast hadn’t destroyed them.

“There won’t be another death tonight, you’ve made sure of that,” he tried to be cheerful. “And that beast never hunts in the day. We’ll find him tomorrow evening, whether or not he lives until then.”

* * *

The soft, echoing rasp of harsh breathing filled the dank sewers, a faint, wavering shadow creeping slowly along the mildewed brick and rotted mortar. Heavy feet, the dark fur soaked with muck and grime, dragged the weary body along the narrow stone ledge, claws scraping the wall as he pressed his shoulder against it. A waist-deep ditch filled with soiled water flowed beside him, filling the close tunnel with a horrid, putrid fog.

He could still feel the holiness of those blades, burning through his veins with a pain worse than any fire, yet he also felt chilled. So mercilessly chilled as his blood streaked and blotted the stone behind him, the liquid writhing like a mass of headless worms. Finally, he could go no further, and he collapsed between two tunnels, his hand trembling with hated weakness as he struggled with his own potion. A magic far beyond what any church or holy order might divine.

 _They likely believe…that they have beaten me,_ he downed what was left, groaning in ecstasy as the power coursed through him. It swallowed the holiness, stitched his torn flesh together, the last of his blood soon disappearing back into his skin. He had crafted it for just this sort of setback, crushing the thick, crystal-cut glass in his fist as his strength returned. He sat, adjusting himself as the healing continued, his mind spinning. _I can’t allow them to find her…_

He pushed himself to his feet, pressing a hand to the wall of the tunnel. The potion hadn’t finished with its work, but he couldn’t spare even the moment or two it would take. There was still far too much to prepare, and he could not risk those mammals finding him again. If they did manage to, however, he knew he would need more than tricks to finally be rid of them.

 _There has to be a way,_ he thought to himself. _There_ has _to be…_


	5. Chapter 5

Nicolas was surprised Aaron hadn’t tied him to the pallet. Even with how close they had been to the bakery, it had taken nearly until morning to reach their room above it, Aaron having to stagger with their combined weight. His brother had been right; there had only been news of one death in the night, meaning the demon had been too wounded to continue his work. He prayed it would mean their next search would bring them to his corpse, instead of another young girl’s.

“Our last vial,” Aaron took the cork stopper from the potion, the spiced ocean scent of it soon filling the air. “It should be enough to finish healing you, but I can always go to the church up the street to have more water blessed if I need to.”

Nicolas held his tongue; he hadn’t trusted the shabby, ill-kept building they had passed their first night. It had looked scarcely more inviting than the broken, dirty gravestones in the fenced area beside it, overgrown with grass and weeds. He shifted against the wall to keep the uneven brick from digging into his back, swallowing the sour-sweet potion as quickly as he could. He had spent most of the day listening to Aaron practice his Pig Latin scriptures, the halting, uneven pronunciations almost more than he could bear. He had been reading fluently at a young age, but his brother still hadn’t gotten the hang of it.

He groaned softly as the herbs and white water did their work, healing the last of his wounds, making him feel as though he could rip monsters apart with his own hands. He stood slowly, then did some practice swipes, his claws practically singing as they slashed the cooling air. Laughing in triumph, he went to gather his things; Aaron had already packed his ruined clothes to be mended when they returned home, but had left his sheaths and holsters spread out on the table. He hadn’t dared touch the weapons inside them, being nervous enough around a pencil or fountain pen he thought had too sharp of a tip.

“You didn’t have to join with us,” he said as he dressed. “You could have chosen your own way.”

“I thought often of doing so,” Aaron admitted. “Knowing I could never be like you and father. It just isn’t my nature, and I did try for a while, remember?”

Every novice of their order, once they reached their thirteenth birthday, was sent away to study at another church. After a year, they were given a choice: to remain there, or return to the Brotherhood. The high council, made of three priests and three hunters, felt it was only right, to let the young mammals decide for themselves. Each year, several did choose to stay with the churches, but most decided to remain with the Brotherhood. Nicolas and their father had both been surprised by Aaron’s choice, but nevertheless had been gladdened by it. It would have been too difficult to say goodbye, after having already lost so much.

“Nicolas,” Aaron spoke up, after a short silence. “What was Mother like?”

Celeste Van Wilde had been a greater hunter than even their father, and after Nicolas’ birth, one of their finest alchemists. She had passed not long after they had found Aaron on the order’s doorstep, tucked in a worn basket with a letter attached, written on rough paper by a clumsy hand. His birthmother had succumbed to fever, his father unable to care for him. Nicolas had just begun training when he’d met his new brother, and from that first day, there had been an unbreakable bond between them.

“I hardly remember her myself,” he began, smiling wistfully. “But she was so kind, so selfless, and Father says she was the bravest mammal he’s ever known.”

Aaron sighed.

“I wish I remembered her,” he said sadly. “Everything I know of her comes from you and others in the order.”

Nicolas smiled.

“You would have loved her,” he said. “As everyone who knew her did.”

* * *

Aaron watched his brother prepare for the battle ahead. Celeste Von Ember had been a gray wolf from the northern branch, sent to assist with a dire mission. She soon developed feelings for Jonah, as he did her, and they had wed that very winter. Just over a year later, Nicolas had been born, and even now, the event was still spoken of, since he was one of few cross-births to survive past their first year.

Nicolas was a head taller than their father, already large for his species, his senses nearly that of a wolf’s. His russet fur was darker, a streak of gray on each limb and down his back, his cream fur nearly white. The deep brown on his hands and feet was sprinkled with gray, and his eyes took a golden sheen in some lights. His ears, tipped in brown and edged in black, flicked down when a claw caught on the chain around his neck, his gaze lingering on the plain ring that rode upon it.

“Will you ever see Judith again?” he asked before he could think. Nicolas’ shoulders, broader than any fox’s, fell heavily.

“I always planned to,” he said as he turned, his other hand tightening on the belt of his holsters. He held the ring another moment, then sighed again, letting that hand drop to his side. “But missions have kept me away, and as I said, she’s likely forgotten me.”

“I doubt anyone who ever met you could,” he set the page marker in his book, then set it aside. “I’m sure she pines for you, as you do for her.”

“I do not pine,” Nicolas argued weakly, then gazed at the charm again. “I intend to be her husband, if she’ll ever have me.”

He turned to the window, hiding a yawn behind his hand when he saw the sun beginning to rise over the city. Even without the wounds the demon had fled with, they knew there would be no attacks until nightfall. All evil was stronger then, hidden from the piercing light of the sun, able to move freely through shadow and deserted streets. He set the book in his pack, then knelt for his prayers, his fur bristling when he saw Nicolas forgo his, instead lying on his pallet and turning his back to the room. As always, he was asleep within seconds.

 _I should tell Father about this,_ he thought for a moment, then dismissed it. The other fox had fought any number of unholy creatures, surely that negated skipping sinple prayers each night. Even if not, Nicolas never took kindly to mammals offering him confession or other such things; that was one argument they’d had too often as children, and one he’d since learned to let go of. As long as he was able to keep his brother by his side, he would let the male do however he pleased.

* * *

It was time to put an end to this slaughter. Nicolas pulled up his hood to block out the wind; it was significantly cooler than it had been, and he couldn’t help but feel it was a bad omen. He raised his nose to the sky, trying once again to track the monster by scent, his tail beginning to lash in annoyance when there was no trace.

“How in all the circles can a beast like that just vanish?” he asked the foggy air. “It’s impossible!”

“Only because we didn’t have the proper tools,” Aaron came up beside him, brandishing a brass pistol with a glass cylinder filled with water.

“What on earth is that?” he questioned impatiently.

“Hetay itewhay aterway istolpay,” Aaron managed proudly, even as he stumbled over the words. Nicolas looked at him.

“The…white water pistol,” he repeated slowly, his voice flat. “You mean that silly idea of Father’s?”

“Not as we might have thought,” Aaron countered. “I’ve been testing it since we arrived, and any surface tarnished by an unholy creature reacts with a flash of light.”

“Of course,” Nicolas stepped aside, still unconvinced. “By all means, lead us to this demon’s lair.”

Aaron aimed at a patch of street a few paces away, just beyond a shallow puddle. The stream that shot from the muzzle glimmered faintly in the moonlight, the ground indeed shining a brilliant blue, though it faded quickly. Nicolas nodded.

“Seems some of his flights of fancy are more than that,” he summoned his knives, leaving Aaron to take the lead. “Though I wish you had thought to use it sooner.”

“So do I,” Aaron fired again, the path beginning to lead them to a sewer entrance. “We won’t be wandering blindly down there, will we?”

Nicolas smirked, then reached in his pocket, pulling out what appeared to be a plain amber rod. Carefully, he bit his thumb, smearing a singe drop of crimson blood across the smooth, even top. Aaron watched in silent awe as the fluid was absorbed, the rod soon emitting a warm, comforting glow.

“I’ll take care of the cover,” he passed it to Aaron, grunting and groaning with effort as he moved the iron plate, revealing a long series of rusted, slimy bars set into a damp and moldy stone wall. He climbed down first, moving swiftly, waiting impatiently as the younger fox followed after. “You keep in front, it’ll be harder for us to be separated.”

Aaron blushed. He had a fine sense of direction until sunset, then he could scarcely tell north from east. He held out the pistol again, his own veins running cold when the water set a cracked and ancient skull glowing, the toothless jaws forever parted in silent screaming. Shuddering, he adjusted his hood to help block such sights, keeping his gaze fixed on the glimmering trails, the splashes and pools as the water cleansed everything it touched. At last, the mammal-made tunnels began giving way to nature; the passages rough, uneven, the stream they followed growing wider and deeper.

“We’re nearly to the waterfront,” he said softly, exchanging the spent canister for a full one. He had made sure to bring several, just in case. They both stopped in their tracks when they beheld a ship, crafted of red pine from the west, gilded and inlaid with silver, gold and jewels. The sails, tied and waiting on tall, majestic masts, were of the palest pink, the portholes open to accept the cool, salty breeze spilling through the mouth of the cave, the moonlight rivaled by twin lines of sun crystals on the dock and gangplank. The ship was tethered with thick black rope, bobbing on the gentle current.

“The princess is here,” Nicolas said suddenly, gripping his shoulder. “Her scent is all over this place.”

Aaron was curious how he even recognized Skyla’s scent, but even more why she would be in such a place.

“I have a theory,” he whispered back, watching as Nicolas blew on the end of the amber rod, the fading light going out as the last of his blood dried. “But you may not like it.”

“I don’t,” he returned, tucking the rod back in his pocket. “I believe I have the same idea.”

They ducked behind a towering stalagmite when they heard voices, the deeper of them eerily familiar.

“We will be ready by morning, sweetheart,” a male said, his tones deep and soothing. “I apologize for taking so long to prepare.”

The other mammal, a young female, giggled lightly in response.

“It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Father,” she answered. “I just enjoy being able to play here, without being ill at all!”

He chuckled.

“And as I promised, there will be a boundless supply of the ingredients needed for your medicine in our new home,” another small laugh. “We shall never have to worry about your health again!”

Aaron barely held back a gasp when the ship’s door opened, revealing a tall, slightly stooped bear with dark fur and long claws, dressed in fine black velvet and gray silk.

“It can’t be,” he murmured, the words hardly audible. “The royal physician?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-birth: a mixed species mammal


	6. Chapter 6

"The current one, you mean," Nicolas muttered beside him. A low growl rumbled dangerously in his throat. "He's covered in the stench of the undead, it has to be him!"

Aaron took a long breath, his tail bristling when he caught the scent for himself. The poisonous mixture of blood, cold magic and ash that all tainted mammals had, though it was nearly overpowered by that of the princess. He sat back on his heels, hardly able to believe the picture that was emerging from the details.

"You mean to say he's been stealing the souls of his victims to…cast some sort of enchantment over her?" he hadn't thought such a thing was even possible. "How are we to break it, then?"

A pair of dark mammals stood on the short dock, and he could sense at least one other aboard the ship itself. Nicolas rose to one knee, keeping out of their sight.

"Do you have the pistol?" he held out a hand. Aaron brought it from the folds of his robe and passed it to him. "We can't risk injuring Skyla, I'm going to see how many of them I can take down with this."

He crept around the edge of the stone tower, taking careful aim. The issue with the pistol was its limited range, meaning he could only neutralize the closest targets. The creature in his sights was on the verge of that range; a risky shot, but not impossible. He took it without hesitation, ducking back into hiding as it shrieked in unholy agony, his nose twitching as the reek of wet, tainted ashes assailed it. Aaron froze as the others roared in anger, whimpering when they began charging toward where their brother had fallen. He heard Nicolas chuckle, looked to see him unloading the glass canister, still filled with blessed water. He rose to his full height, then tossed it, both of them shielding their eyes from the white-blue flare that followed.

Arron blinked away the spots after the light faded, his jaw falling slack when he saw how the space had transformed. The fires blazing on the torches and in the sconces carved into the cave walls had turned a brilliant blue, and the rock itself seemed gilded with gleaming silver. The water also had an unusual glitter, the current dancing delicately against the jeweled sides of the ship. There was no sign that demonic creatures had ever existed there.

"Let's go," Nicolas swept past him, halfway up the dock before Arron could get to his feet. The ship was just as lavish inside: silk and velvet, polished jewels and precious metals. He couldn't believe the amount of ocean silver: inlaid along the walls, shaped into tiles for mosaics, framing exquisite painted portraits of the doctor and a young Skyla.

"I'm beginning to understand," Nicolas spoke to himself, his tail lashing as her scent grew stronger. "Somehow, he's come to believe that Skyla is his daughter, and he's used the souls of those girls to reshape her mind, so she sees their lives as he does."

"But how could he have come to such a thought?" Aaron wondered, keeping close behind. He also held a canister of white water tightly in hand, ready to toss at the first sign of another familiar. He nearly dropped it when he walked into his brother, the other fox having stopped dead in his tracks.

"The queen…" he said softly, and Aaron could almost hear the thoughts whirling beneath that unkempt fur. "She must have had his heart, and he believes she betrayed him when she wed the king. He's likely spent each day since planning all of this, and decided that, since he couldn't have her, he'd take the child he felt should have been his."

Aaron gasped. It made perfect sense.

"That brings us back to how we're to lift this enchantment," he started. "No one in the order will know how to undo such magic, and the doctor will refuse to tell us."

"Sunlight," Nicolas stated, as though it were obvious. "It's known to counter all forms of cold magic, why should this be different?"

Once more, it made sense, and it was then he realized how few portholes there were on the ship. All closed and so darkly tinted it was incredible any light entered at all. His tail flicked when he heard the delighted giggle of a young girl, muffled behind an ornate white door.

"Father will be back soon," Skyla was speaking to herself, blissfully ignorant of the horrid truth. "Then we'll leave, and I'll never be sick again!"

Aaron grabbed his brother's wrist, pulling his hand back from the polished gold knob.

"Is there a way to break this enchantment without sacrificing her health?" he questioned softly.

Nicolas looked at him, then sighed heavily.

"I wish there were, but even so, we cannot allow these murders to continue," he went on, a line of anger in his voice. "The wellbeing of one is never worth the sacrifice of so many others, you know that as well as I do."

Aaron stared back at him, then threw his arm down.

"I must contact the governor," he began resolutely. "There has to be a way!"

He shoved the white water in the other's hands, making it barely a foot before he was tugged roughly back.

"And what if you were to meet the doctor?" Nicolas demanded hotly. "Do you honestly think he would hesitate to kill you, just because you wish for Skyla to keep her health? He would sooner take your head!"

Aaron glowered at him.

"I must at least try," he argued, fighting to break away. Nicolas let him struggle a moment, then sighed and released him.

"Stay here with her, then, keep her from the sunlight. I'll go and find the doctor myself," he went on. "Then we can take her to the order and find a way to keep her health from deteriorating without the spell, does this suit you?"

Aaron nodded emphatically.

"It does, and I should have enough white water to take care of any straggling familiars. I will keep her safe."

Aaron prayed his brother couldn't see far enough through him to discern the true reason, those hopes quickly dashed when he saw the look on the other's face. Instead of laughing, however, Nicolas reached over and gripped his shoulder.

"I've no doubt you will," he smiled softly, then left, moving silently back the way they had come, following the thread of blood still lingering in the air, mixed with the heady, pungent musk of bear. The sun was just beginning its ascent when he returned to the surface, in the shallow wood between the inner and outer palace walls. A relic from the kingdom's early days, when hostile neighbors laid waste and siege, killing and capturing, looting and plundering.

This entrance to the caves was hidden in a cluster of gray boulders, the scorched and jagged stump of a lightening-struck pine standing guard beside it. The tree itself had fallen back against the stones, the ground beneath his feet littered with dry brown needles. The scents of the wood overshadowed all others, and he cursed aloud in frustration, birds darting from the branches towering overhead.

"Oh, dear," a voice spoke, the owner lost among the shifting mist and shadows, though he needed no face to recognize it. "Did you lose something, son?"

Scanning his surroundings, Nicolas slowly reached beneath his jacket, taking hold of his pistols, feeling the long, sturdy scabbard for the sword between them. His father had gifted it to him just before they had left, the blade of the finest steel, sharp and deadly as a piercing blizzard wind. Aaron, of course, had had his misgivings, but had agreed it would be wise to bring the weapon, in case his guns should fail.

"I've come for a bear," he answered steadily. "Hunched and dressed in dark velvet and silk, acting as the royal physician."

The voice, echoing softly, shifted around him, sending the fur of his neck on end.

"I've seen no such mammals pass this way, but my, my," a low, mocking chuckle. "Am I correct in assuming that you wish this fellow harm?"

Nicolas felt his lips curl in a snarl, how he despised these creatures and their wretched games!

"No more harm than he has befallen on others," he returned, catching a glimpse of moving shadow. He began to draw. "Though I am inclined to offer him salvation first. If he will only turn himself in to the order, he will stay unharmed!"

Another chuckle, nearer and colder.

"And if he refuses?"

He slowly thumbed the hammers back, his fingers curling around the smooth, solid triggers.

"Then he shall die, here and now, by my hands!"

A branch snapped.

"We shall see."

* * *

Skyla looked up from her game when the door opened, drawing back when she saw the stranger enter. He was dressed in a strange dark robe and cape, a crossbow on a chain glinting silver at his chest. His eyes were not unkind, however, and he held out his hands, going no further than the threshold of her rooms.

"Forgive the intrusion, miss," he said. She liked his voice, she decided, sweet and gentle like the smile he gave her. "I have been sent by your father to protect you."

"My father?" she crawled a step forward, keeping low to the polished wood floor. He nodded.

"My name is Aaron Van Wilde, a friar with the Azure Brotherhood."

Her ears perked at the name, and she drew back again, baring her teeth at him.

"Father says the Brotherhood is evil, they kill mammals who have done no wrong!"

She thought he would come toward her, but instead, he simply sat down in the doorway, his back to the jamb so he could see into both the hall and her room.

"There have been such mammals among us, yes," he wouldn't deny what was true. "However, they have always been quickly dealt with, and not allowed to remain part of us."

She continued to watch him, her nose twitching as she took in his scent. It was somewhat similar to hers, being that he was a fox, with an earthy hint she found comforting, and oddly familiar.

"Are you alone?" she questioned. He shook his head.

"My elder brother, Nicolas, was sent with me. There was another mission we were to do here, regarding the princess."

"The princess?" she gazed at him quizzically. "But that's me, Father says it is no longer safe here, and that we must leave."

Aaron nodded thoughtfully.

"And has he told you what the danger is?"

She shook her head.

"Only that our new home will have all the ingredients he needs to be sure I'll never get sick again," she giggled and clapped her hands. "That makes me happy, I don't like being sick, not at all!"

He chuckled, a nice sound.

"I can't think of any mammal who does," he looked around a moment. "This is a very beautiful ship, did your father design it?"

She giggled again, nodding happily.

"He says he built it all just for me, but I think he made it too big," she picked up one of her dolls, crafted of fine linen with copper thread for hair, dressed in a blue silk gown as fine as hers. "It makes me feel so lonely, knowing I have no one to play with. Father is always too busy, and the servants have their own work to finish."

"I understand such things," he said. "Nicolas and Father were often occupied with training, and our mother passed when I was too young to know her."

"Were there never any other children?" she wondered.

"Oh, many, but most of us are orphans, such as myself, left on the church steps by parents who could not care for us. We're taken in, trained for either combat or our own Holy Orders," he grabbed a fistful of his robe. "As I said, I'm of the church, but Nicolas is one of the greatest hunters we have ever known, surpassed only by our parents."

She set down her doll, going to sit on the edge of her large rug, woven in pale colors with scenes of beauty and peace.

"Are your father and brother as quiet and kind as you are?" she was surprised at how he laughed then, a warmly rich and rolling sound she was sure spread joy to whoever heard it.

"Kind, of course, but quiet?" he smiled. "I don't believe either of them ever were."

She pulled her tail in front of her, taking her favorite ebony comb from her skirts, running it slowly through her white fur.

"Why are you truly here?" she looked up at him. "I know my father didn't send for you, not when he would say such things of you."

His ears went back, and he gazed for a long while at the floor.

"Our leader heard of your father's desire to keep you safe," he began, lifting his head to face her. "We were sent to offer any assistance we could, though it appears you have no need of it."

He motioned at the lathed ceiling, studded with moonstones and pinfire opals, the gems arranged to form her favorite constellations. It had always been a comfort to her, knowing the stars above would never change, no matter how much the world around her did.

"I'm pleased to have you here," she assured him. "And when my father hears your mission, I know he will be, as well."

She tucked her comb away and stood, striding fast across the room to catch at his rough brown sleeve.

"I've gotten so tired of playing by myself," she said, pulling on him until he rose. "Maybe if he sees how well we've kept company, he'll be more agreeable about allowing you and your brother to join my guard."

She stopped, peeking around him to the hall. It was empty and quiet, with only the muted sounds of the river splashing against the ship.

"Where is your brother? Didn't he arrive with you?"

"He's gone to find your father," he returned gravely. "I'm afraid we may have uncovered a sinister plan against you both, and he hopes to find him before trouble can befall him."

Her breath shuddered lightly in her throat.

"Y-You mean, he may be injured, o-or even killed?"

He nodded solemnly.

"I'm afraid so, highness, but I can assure you, no harm will come to him once Nicolas finds him. As I said, he is one of our finest hunters, and I pity the criminal who tries to take advantage of him."

Skyla's hands lowered slightly from her face.

"I-Is he really so skilled, truly?"

Aaron nodded.

"He is, highness, I would never lie to you."

* * *

Nicolas leapt aside at the first sign of movement, catching himself neatly as he turned to gaze upon his foe. Fine clothes hung in tatters across stooped, hulking shoulders, milky saliva dripping from thick, cracked black lips, the white daggers within them flashing wetly in the rising sun. Beady, black-amber eyes regarded him carelessly, sinew and muscle rippling with each calculated movement. There was a large, clean wound on his abdomen, plastered over with rough linen bandages stained by a line of old brown blood. Pale, scaly skin visible through sparse, matted dark fur. Nicolas kept his pistols raised, his body poised to action.

"Am I correct in assuming you are Alexander Ursidae, the physician tasked with restoring Princess Skyla's health?"

"Indeed, you're more clever than most," he bowed with gleeful exaggeration. "I commend you on tracking me this far."

"It wasn't too difficult," he returned with a derisive smile. "We just had to follow the scent of blood and ashes, mingled with your own choking stench."

He had expected the beast to charge, not leap away into the forest canopy. He had to recall that this was not the same as others he had faced; there remained the rationality of a civilized mammal, instead of just raw power guided by instinct and hunger. He was surprised to feel fear beginning to seep through his veins, as he gazed all but blindly into the thickening fog surrounding him, listening to that despicable laughter.

"I thought you had seemed familiar, when last we met," Alexander spoke from above. "Nicolas Van Wilde, blood-son to the finest hunters of the Azure Brotherhood, who now aims to surpass them both. You have built quite the reputation for yourself."

Nicolas chuckled mirthlessly.

"Then you should know that I have never yet failed in a mission," he pulled in a breath, tracking his quarry by scent and sound. "Tell me, how did you come by this magic, could you have not have found other ways to cure the princess?"

Another branch cracked, and he artfully dodged a second attack, keeping low to the ground as he circled Alexander, the bear doing the same to him.

"Those other ways had all been attempted," the doctor replied. "And none yielded results. I knew it would take more than mere science, so I decided to join my own treatments with magic."

"Magic that would force her to believe she were your own blood, instead of our king's," a cold smile touched his lips. "For the queen herself held your heart, did she not? She betrayed you with him."

He was pleased to see the fury that bloomed in the elder male's eyes, his roar shaking the earth as he charged, his savage claws catching only unfeeling air. Nicolas had sheathed his guns at the last moment, then leapt with all his might, caught a tree limb, and pulled himself on to it.

"Skyla should have been _my_ daughter," he growled with froth flying from his lips. _"_ That filthy pelt will never be worthy of her!"

"Yet, she chose to wed him," Nicolas returned, looking down on him. He could only feel pity for the creature now, driven so far by hatred and heartbreak, calling back memories of his own mother's death, when he would have attempted any and all ways to have her return. He stood on the branch, letting those stale tears slip freely down his cheeks. "You could not have her, so you strived to steal her daughter, by murdering so many others!"

"Yes!" Alexander screamed, the scent of fresh blood rising from him. Nicolas watched as he began to stagger and sway, as though he had suddenly taken drunk. Cautiously, he holstered his weapons and came down from his perch, keeping his distance as he inspected his foe. In the growing light of dawn, he caught a crimson gleam trailing from the corners of the other's mouth, his eyes and nose. His breath was beginning to rasp in his throat, and soon a hacking cough started to rattle in his chest. "I-It was the only way to make her realize the truth!"

"The truth you know as well as I do is mere fantasy," Nicolas stepped closer, his tail flicking when he saw a small crystal decanter tumble from a fold in Alexander's ruined cape. It was half-filled with a vile liquid, a scarlet so dark it was nearly black as night. "You can't rewrite the past to suit your present, it is set in stone and cannot be changed."

He came closer still, just beyond the bear's reach, though he doubted Alexander even had the strength to snarl at him now.

"And now you know what becomes of those who use the devil's magic," he continued, kneeling in the dewy forest litter. "It eats at them, from the inside out, until it finally consumes them. And it appears your time has come."

He grabbed the decanter, tucking it in the deepest pocket of his coat, then rose back to his feet.

"Think of these last hours as your penance, for all the death and misery you have caused, and die, knowing you will never see Elizabeth in heaven, or the child you could have shared with her."

With those final words, he turned his back on the creature, moving quickly to the hidden entrance. He could only hope he weren't too late to keep Skyla from being touched by sunlight, lifting the spell, and her fragile life with it.

"W-Wait!" Alexander heaved himself round, panting heavily from just that short effort. The bleeding had grown worse, his limbs beginning to tremble. "I-I have one last thing t-to tell you…"

Nicolas stopped, but wouldn't turn.

"Speak, then," he ordered simply. "While you still have the strength to."

Alexander panted a moment, then coughed, milky spittle spattering the fallen needles.

"Y-Your mother, she was not who she c-claimed to be," another cough, harsher than before. "Y-Your father has been h-hiding truth from you a-as well…"

Nicolas went stiff, his fur bristling. How dare this monster seek to spread such lies!

"I know every word of her history," he returned smoothly. "My father keeps no secrets from me, and never will."

A weak, fading laugh.

"T-Then you know that she was…"

If there were any other words, they were lost to the fog, having no breath to carry them. He watched as that dying body ceased to move, his eyes widening when he saw the flesh dissolve, the bones crumble, until nothing remained but damp, dark ash.

 _He had no soul…_ he thought fearfully. Just how long had Alexander Ursidae being using this magic? He shuddered, then hurried back into the caverns, eager to be away from this place, to get the heiress to their nation home to the order, knowing their medical knowledge was far beyond that of the outside world.

 _We will save her, Aaron,_ he vowed silently, clutching his medallion. _For you, and our kingdom._


	7. Chapter 7

Aaron’s nose twitched when he caught his brother’s scent, faintly mixed with the doctor’s. He rose and approached Skyla’s door, his eyes going wide when he saw Nicolas. The other tod was leaning heavily against the wall, limping, his jacket scratched and scraped.

“What happened to you?” Aaron hurried to his side, keeping his voice low so Skyla couldn’t hear. “Did the doctor do all of this?”

Nicolas shook his head.

“No, I just,” he hissed through his teeth. “One of the steps in the tunnels gave way, and I took quite the fall.”

Aaron helped him the rest of the way to Skyla’s rooms, the white vixen gasping in shock when she saw them.

“Oh, dear,” she stood, cleared the small pile of gowns from her bed, then dragged a large bag out from beneath it. “My father said he’d feel better if his supplies were close by, should I ever get hurt.”

She looked at them, her eyes sparkling inquisitively.

“Where is my father,” she asked Nicolas. “Have you found him?”

Nicolas couldn’t meet her gaze. He sighed heavily, groaning as Aaron helped pull off his jacket.

“I did, but I’m afraid he had an illness he was hiding from you,” his tail, flicking in agitation, went painfully limp. “I did find him, however, it wasn’t before it could claim his life. I’m so sorry…”

He clenched his jaw, tears beginning to seep into his facial fur.

“I arrived in time to hear his last words, and he wished for you to live the fullest life possible, whether or not he was there to share it with you,” he finally faced her. “I’m so sorry, highness, I truly am.”

Skyla was a statue, the only sign of life the tremble in her lip, the shallow quiver of her breath. Then the next moment, she crumpled, falling into hysteric sobs. Aaron was fast by her side, doing what he could to comfort her.

“Oh, Father…” she choked on her grief. “J-Just when we were finally going to be safe, we were going to be happy!”

She threw herself at him, gripping his robe in shaking hands, soaking the rough cloth with her tears. He glanced back at his brother, who appeared genuinely heartbroken, yet still determined to see the mission through.

“We should be going,” he said, groaning again when he tried to stand. Aaron continued to hold the princess.

“Our own supplies are still waiting above the bakery, I’ll return shortly to collect them,” he gripped Skyla’s shoulders. “I hate to ask this of you now, but will you be able to tend to my brother, until I return?”

She nodded, though her breath still shook.

“Yes, it will be nice to have a task to focus on, so I don’t think as much of this,” she stood and adjusted her gown, looking so stately, even with her dampened face. “I shall do my upmost to care for him, as you did for me, Aaron.”

Arron nodded, then quickly swiped one of the pistols from his brother’s holsters.

“I’m not much use with such things,” he said lightly. “But it is better than wandering the streets unarmed. I’ll return before sunset, then we can set sail for the order.”

He left, wishing there were more he could do for Skyla, for as long as this enchantment were on her, she would feel the pain of grief and longing, all for a false father who had been a soulless murderer.

* * *

 The journey to the order was swift, thanks to strong currents and favorable winds. There was also a marvelous hidden trick to the ship; mechanisms at the helm and rudder could lock them in course, and since the broad river was nearly straight as an arrow, that meant there needn’t be a mammal on constant guard, to steer through any turns or twists. It was clear of any dangers, as well, with a line of clear, flat land on either side, the towering forests too far back for any trees to fall, any stones long since worn to the sand that covered its floor.

Shortly after they had begun, Skyla had shown them a wondrous sight: a magnificent bird with incredible azure plumage, with yellow along a large black beak and encircling intelligent black eyes. She had explained that she had raised it from a hatchling, training it to carry messages and catch the small reptiles that plundered the palace stores. Nicolas had expressed his doubts that it could locate a place it had never been, but a day after it had been dispatched, it had returned with a reply in their father’s hand. Their medical officers were ready to receive the princess, and the governor had informed the king of her whereabouts, though not yet the full truth of what Alexander had done.

 _There is no need,_ Nicolas told himself. The hellish physician was finished, and so were his crimes. _The king has granted all the time we require to heal his daughter, there is no point in causing him further duress._

“We’re almost to the docks,” Aaron came up behind him. “You should still be resting.”

Not even a day had passed before Nicolas had risen from bed, despite being hardly able to walk. He had managed to keep relatively whole throughout the mission, yet had received a mortifying injury on his return from the forest.

“I still can’t believe falling in the caves led to fracturing your foot,” Aaron openly smirked. “With everything else you had gone through.”

Nicolas scoffed.

“It is my luck, though,” he said. “Something like this occurring just as the mission ends, as you well know.”

Aaron snorted. It had been over a sennight since that incident with their father’s snare, and the memory still brought him to mirth. Skyla had thought the story humorous as well, though at least had the good sense not to laugh in Nicolas’ face. The red grabbed his brother’s arm and twisted sharply, though not enough to break. Aaron whimpered.

“Okay, enough laughing,” he said, his tail puffing. “Got it!”

Smirking, Nicolas released him, then returned to watching the land sail past. The river followed a route he never would have thought to use, taking nearly half a day off their journey on its own.

“How is Skyla?” he questioned after a silence.

“Still well,” Aaron answered, sitting on a crate filled with dried fruits. “She’s developed the habit of sleeping in the day, as recommended by Alexander I suspect, so she wouldn’t be exposed to sunlight.”

Nicolas nodded.

“I wish I knew how long it might take to find a solution, but the truth is nothing like this has been attempted before,” he shook his head. “There is a chance it may never happen.”

“It will,” Aaron said resolutely. “I will see to it myself if I have to, but there _will_ be a cure.”

He looked to the horizon, bathed in the pale, glowing beauty of a late winter sunset, the stately bow cutting smoothly through the water, the reflections therein becoming wavering pieces of liquid mercury, reforming on the mirror surface in their wake.

“There was another message from Father,” Nicolas interrupted his musings, groaning softly as he shifted his feet, stretched the wrapped one out in front of him. “He said I am to go to the southern forest in the spring, if I am to return with Judith for our summer nuptials.”

“So soon?” Aaron asked, adjusting the folds of his cloak so it fell behind him. “That’s barely time for your injury to heal!”

“It’s a long journey, even more so there and back, and I am eager to see her,” he added, a fearful tilt to his lips. “But it’s been so long, I would not be surprised if she has abandoned me, or even forgotten me.”

“Could you have not written to her?”

“Hers is a village of nomads,” Nicolas explained. “Any letters I might have sent would likely never have reached her. I hope she at least gives me the chance to explain myself…”

Aaron leaned forward, touching the other’s knee.

“If she is even half as incredible as you have made her sound, then I’m sure she still feels just as strongly for you,” he leaned back again. “But…how did your engagement come to be?”

Nicolas shrugged.

“That, I don’t know, I was too young to be part of the meetings Father held with the Elder,” he pulled the chain from his collar, running his thumb along the smooth wood of the ring. “My best guess would be it is some form of alliance, though they are already part of the order, so I’m not sure what benefit that would be.”

Aaron gazed past him, then stood, a bright smile blooming on his face.

“You will be able to ask Father soon,” he spoke, then pointed. “I can see the order’s church looming, we are nearly there!”

He started for the stairway that led below.

“I will go and wake Skyla, she’ll like to be prepared before we dock, and as I said,” he paused briefly, smiling again over his shoulder. “Judith will be overjoyed to see you, there’s no need to worry.”

He descended, and Nicolas resorted to watching the approaching cathedral, towering above all around it, and as they approached, the plethora of details became clear. The deep azure tiles of its sloping roof, the polished dark stone of its walls, spouts for runoff adorned with carved, fearsome creatures of fantasy: heads of dragons, griffins and demons, maws forever gaping, eyes blind to the ever-changing world below. The high, majestic black lattice spire, the copper bell gleaming so proudly within. It pealed its nightly song as the sun finished sinking past the horizon, a line of hazy mystery in the far distance, small flames leaping to life in their sconces, as if by magic.

He could see the darker shadows of those who called the holy palace home, gathering along the stately dock, ready to receive and assist. The children, both foundlings and birthed by the order’s members, had gathered at the front, cheering and clamoring as the magnificent ship approached. The fine hemp line Nicolas threw was one of many fastened to the deck, caught deftly by a rhino, who moored it swiftly. Aaron returned, the gangplank lowered, the princess hooded and whisked inside, lest a stray beam of sunlight come across her.

 _Everything will be right soon,_ he thought to himself, as he and Aaron met their father on the dock, the elder fox beaming proudly, yet with reservations.

“What of the doctor?” he questioned, once the crowd had departed. Nicolas swallowed, then groaned softly in pain.

“The cold magic consumed him,” he revealed. “In the narrow wood surrounding the palace, I witnessed it myself.”

Jonah nodded gravely.

“As I had supposed,” he spoke in low tones. “Is His Majesty aware of this?”

“No,” Aaron supplied, adjusting his stance to take more of his brother’s weight. Nicolas had slept little on the voyage, his conscience weighted by what had occurred. He and Aaron had succeeded in rescuing Skyla, but Alexander’s soul had been damned to hell, and they were now telling a great falsehood to their sovereign. “He knows she is here, of course, though he believes it to be so we may find a way to heal her, not so we may remove an enchantment from her.”

Jonah nodded gravely, placing a hand on each of his sons’ shoulders.

“We will come to these bridges in time,” he said. “Then we may determine how to cross them, but until then, let us look solely to the present task. Her Highness is now safe with us, and I believe you, Nicolas, have been neglecting your health, as you so often do.”

Nicolas sighed.

“I had to be sure we arrived securely,” he began. “That was more important than wasting my time with rest, I shall have more than enough of that here now.”

Aaron and their father chuckled, then the three of them started slowly for the massive oaken doors of the cathedral, sharply arched and carved with scenes from their holy book, granting peace and serenity to all who entered.

_If only it were so…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, another chapter posted! I wish I could say that it means this story will start updating at least semi-regularly, but the simple truth is I have no freaking idea if that will happen. Especially with me going out of town on a long weekend in a couple weeks. Fingers crossed I can get at least _one_ more chapter posted before next year. XD

** Book II: ** **Lýkos**

_Nicolas knew there was only one who could rival this glade for perfection. Jade and emerald green with leaf and fern, festooned with blooms every shade of the world, the fiery amber sun casting its warmth down through a sapphire sky, unblemished by clouds. He pulled in a long breath, feeling peace pool in his chest, thinking there was still a treasure missing before this heaven were complete._

_He turned at footsteps, dainty and sure, unable and unwilling to hold back the smile that touched his face, his heart soaring to the stars when his gaze fell upon her. She had never been more radiant, grown into confidence, holding herself as a queen, her slender form garbed in pure moonlight._

_"_ _Judith," he hurried to her, swept her into his arms. "At last I can see you again!"_

 _"_ _Nicolas," she gazed at him with amethyst eyes, and he soon found himself lost in them, before moving to capture her pink petal lips, only for an icy chill to shoot mercilessly through his veins. Her eyes grew dark, as did the world around them, and he looked to see the hilt of a blade against his chest, the same she had gifted him when they had parted ways as children. The scarlet stain stood bright against his pale clothes, stealing his strength as it spread. He gazed back to her, as the winds began to scream, thunder roiling in clouds as black as oil, the rain fire against his flesh._

 _"_ _J-Judith…" he fell to his knees, choking on the breath he could scarcely draw when he saw the horrid expression, twisting and warping the beauty of her face, the fury he had thought her incapable of._

 _"_ _Did you really think," she began, her voice empty and cold. "That I could ever love the mammal who killed my mother?!"_

_She shoved him back, watching as he fell, his last sight the cruel curl of her lips._

"Nicolas?" another voice, gentle and warm, pulled him from the abyss. "It's all right, son, there's nothing to fear…"

Nicolas peered out from beneath his pillow, refuge from the terrible storm that had overtaken the city in the night. His father sat on a simple stool beside his bed, a hand on his shoulder, concern in his eyes.

"Bonnibel's death was not your fault," the elder tod assured him, firming his grip before pulling back. "There was nothing any of us could have done."

Nicolas knew he had been speaking in his sleep; it was not the first time he had had such a dream, and he knew it would not be the last.

"I still worry," he said. His foot had healed quickly, and he was eager to begin his trip to the southern forests, though he also feared what Judith would think of him, after so long apart. He looked at his father. "How else can she possibly see me?"

His father chuckled.

"She will see you as the mammal you are," he assured. "That you always have been."

He stood, strode to the window and threw aside the heavy curtains. Nicolas briefly ducked beneath his covers against the flare of sunlight as it spilled through the window, and his father laughed.

"Still the same as always," he smiled fondly, brushing off his hands. Nicolas folded back his covers and knelt by his bed, reaching beneath to drag out the empty pack he kept there. His father helped to gather his things, the last of his shirts tumbling to the floor at an explosion from below, the pair hurrying to the window that looked out on the church square. A plume of pale smoke rose from the cobblestones, the brown of Aaron's habit standing out amongst the azures, scarlets and grays that clothed the rest of the order.

"What's he experimenting with now?" Nicolas asked. Their father shrugged.

"You remember that water pistol of his," he began. "Well, it seems as though he is attempting to do the same with sunlight or fire, as there are beings immune to such things as white water and blessed metals."

It was seen as a myth by many, those who held unyielding conviction in their faith, and while it was indeed uncommon, there was proof that such creatures lived. All one had to do was look within the history of their order, the tales of horror and triumph against those who threatened the day-lit world. Of course, there was sorrow writ there as well, as many of their own had succumbed to the wounds inflicted by such beasts, both to their bodies, and to their spirits.

"We should finish here quickly," Nicolas spoke, going back to his packing. "Before Aaron manages to destroy the place."

He dressed quickly, ready to leave when his father gripped his shoulder.

"There's one other thing you should know," he began. "It's likely that this trip will evolve into danger, as rumors have been circulating about a darkness we haven't seen for centuries."

"What sort of darkness?" Nicolas wondered, suspicion in his voice. Rumors had been circulating long enough to reach the order, and he had heard nothing of them until now? Had Governor Bogo and the council decided to leave Judith and the others to their fates? Before he could question it, his father continued.

"A grave one, his name is Lýkos, a Macedonian general who should have perished millennia ago, yet sightings of him have continued into this century," he sighed heavily. "Your mother and I thought we had finally defeated him, and it was that battle which took her life."

Nicolas went cold, then a rage he had never known flooded his veins, his eyes becoming molten steel.

"I will find this demon," he snarled. "I swear I will end him!"

* * *

 

“What do you mean, you won’t come with me?” Nicolas stared his brother down, the younger male hardly paying him any mind. He had gone to the square to find the tod hard at work on one of his various experiments, though for the life of him, Nicolas could not determine what it might be.

“I’ve explained it to you before,” Aaron replied, fiddling with a chunk of sun crystal. He had been working endlessly with it in the past weeks, as though trying to uncover some secret it hid or other power it contained. “I can’t leave, as I have my own nuptials to prepare for now.”

Nicolas thought how he should have seen such things coming. Skyla had come to adore Aaron since he had puzzled out how to cure her ailment: a mixture of white water, herbs and other ingredients the fox kept as a closely guarded secret. She had gone so far as to write to her father, begging him to allow her to stay, to wed the male who had saved her. The king had agreed, on the condition that the pair allow their children to be named heirs to the kingdom, and to send them to live at the palace once they came of age. Nicolas was thankful his own marriage would come no such conditions, as Judith had pledged her life to serving the order, just as he had, and he awaited the day when their own children would begin training, whether in combat, smithing or healing.

“Is it really so difficult a journey that you need assistance?”

Nicolas gazed blankly at him, then shook his head.

“It’s not the journey that worries me,” he said. “But the rumors regarding the devil who slaughtered our mother.”

Aaron fumbled with the crystal, the shard dropping into a small bowl of clouded blue liquid. They both shielded their eyes from the resulting flash, brighter than the summer sun after a spell of pitch darkness.

“Saints above,” Nicolas blinked and swiped at his tearing eyes. “What the hell is that?”

Aaron quickly covered the bowl with a rough black handkerchief.

“Its one of my latest tools,” he exclaimed proudly. “One drop of this potion on a shard of sun crystal, and you’ll be able to burn out the eyes of any vampiric being!”

He ducked briefly beneath his work table, snatching a bulbous glass vile from a rough sack, then with a careful hand, poured in the potion from the bowl. He corked it securely, then passed it to his brother. “I’m sure it will be of use!”

Nicolas stared at it, rolling the container in his palms.

“I suppose you wouldn’t be willing to share the secret of this with me?” he asked with a small smile. “The rest of the order may have need of it.”

Aaron shook his head.

“I haven’t quite perfected it yet,” he revealed. “This will be the first real field test, if need be, though I’m hoping you’ll be able to return with Judith and her family without such trouble.”

Nicolas huffed, if only he were so blessed. He took off his pack and knelt, undoing to clasp and tucking the potion securely inside. The southern branch of the order was responsible for the mining of sun crystals, and so he knew there would be plenty on hand, should he have need of it.

“I hope to return quickly,” he fastened his pack and stood, reaching in his collar for his medallion. The ring was there as always, his heart racing in both anticipation and fear as he thought of the upcoming meeting. It had been so long since he and Judith had seen each other, and he was no longer the innocent, carefree child he had been, though of course, neither was she.

“I must go,” he said quickly, swiping up his bag and setting it on his shoulders. “I have to reach the Gray Mountains by sunset tomorrow, if I’m to bring her and her family here in time.”

Aaron nodded, then reached under his table again, this time pulling a cream envelope, sealed in azure with the royal crest.

“Skyla asked that I give this to you,” he said. “For Judith, though she never said what it contains.”

Nicolas chuckled, Aaron’s curiosity was nearly legendary. He nodded, tucking the letter in his jacket.

“I will make sure she gets it, but I wonder at bringing them together…”

Aaron went slightly pale beneath his fur. They had discovered that Skyla held a great love for playing tricks on others, and would often collude with their father on such things. Judith had shown a similar penchant in their youth, and Nicolas suddenly prayed she had grown beyond it, or nobody in the order would be safe.

“Right, then!” he forced such thoughts from his mind, there would be plenty of time to worry on them later. “I’m off!”


End file.
